


fate, destiny and soulmates

by desperateforsanity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Muggle AU, Oneshot, childhood best friends au, jily, jily au, longish, mostly jily with a touch of wolfstar cuz why not right, sorry quarantine has me in this mood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24036172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desperateforsanity/pseuds/desperateforsanity
Summary: Sixteen summers shared between childhood best friends and how it all ends.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 32
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo sorry this is just the idea that wouldn't leave my head. I have been incredibly unproductive in this quarantine and this is the only half-decent thing I've been able to turn out. Let me know what you think? Sending love and safety!
> 
> \- desperateforsanity
> 
> 5/8/2020 -- Edited because I can't stop whoops.

It all started on June 5th, 1966. James Fleamont Potter was six years, two months and nine days old when he first saw her. He had not known at the time the exquisite pain and awful joy she would bring to his life. Later in his life, James would wonder what he would have changed if he had known how it would end. 

Lily Jane Evans -- at six years, four months and six days old -- is a bright, thoughtful young girl. She likes to think of herself as an old soul, a phrase she had heard from her grandmother while they were gardening. Lily likes ideas like old souls. She likes lots of things like that. She enjoys the idea of fate, of destiny and soulmates. She enjoys the thought of a neatly paved path planned out for her, a kind of certainty she did not have much else in her life. 

At six years old, James does not think much about fate, nor about soulmates. He thinks fairy tales are rubbish, despises gardening and longs simply for a mate to run about with while his parents putter about in the house. As yet, James had been alone during his summers at the lake, so when he sees Lily Evans -- a pale, thin little thing -- admiring his summer spot, he is quick to introduce himself. 

“Hullo,” he says, and he shows her how adults were supposed to shake hands. “I’m James.”

“I’m Lily,” she says, and she smiles. 

“How old are you, Lily?”

“Six.”

James smiles back, because that is the answer that he had been hoping for, and points to the path into the woods. “D’you wanna go see the lake?”

Lily looks over her shoulder only once before saying yes, and they take off together, hand in hand. 

Their first summer is a blur of childish games. They take turns jumping into the lake, competing to see who is brave enough to jump from what branch of the big maple tree growing from the hilltop. James pushes Lily in only once that summer, and she smears lake mud down his bare chest in retaliation. 

When the sun starts to set and it is too cold to swim, they sit upon the maple’s thickest branch, shrouded by the foliage, their toes touching in the small space, and talk. Lily talks about her mother, who worries about Lily a lot because Lily was sick this past year, and her sister, Petunia, who is always angry with Lily for something or other. James talks how about his parents drag him to the boring lakehouse every summer, and about never having anyone to play with.

They twist their pinkies together and promise to always be friends -- so James doesn’t have to be alone anymore, and Lily doesn’t have to listen to Petunia. 

Their afternoons are filled with games of chicken to see who will swim farther out into the lake, hiding in the shrubs when Petunia comes to call Lily for dinner. They catch tadpoles beneath the little bridge on the north end of the pond. It's a dinky little thing made of cable and boards over the shallow waters of a creek, but it feels magical to them. Lily pretends to spot fairies in the reeds, and James teases her for believing in fairies.

Lily skins her knee falling out of their tree, and James helps her clean it on the bathroom counter. James loses his first tooth while they are swimming, and Lily dives into the lake’s murky depths to find it for him. 

By the end of the summer, James cannot remember what it was like to be at the lake without her. When it is time for Lily to go home with her family, two weeks before James’, they pinkie swear to always be friends and come back to the lake to see each other. 

Lily cries when her dad pulls out of their driveway, and waves sorrowfully out the back window as they go. 

\--

It’s 1967, and Lily Evans hugs James Potter for the first time outside his front door. James hugs her back and they take off into the woods. 

It felt like nothing had changed in a year, except that James’ hair had perhaps gotten longer and messier, and Lily had perhaps gotten a bit paler and thinner. James hardly minds, though, because her smile only seems brighter each time he sees it. 

Lily makes James play fairies with her, building leaning shelters in the woods and decorating them with wildflowers. In exchange for playing along with Lily’s fairy tales, Lily agrees to smuggle them snacks. They scarf down sweets in their fairy houses and lick the melted chocolate off their fingers. 

At the end of the summer, Lily tells James that she’s been sick again this year and that her mother hadn’t wanted her to come back. James tells her that he hopes she is better, because that is what good little boys are supposed to say (or so his mother says), and Lily tells him that she is now. 

Lily doesn’t cry this time, but she does hug James extra tight before getting in the car. James spends the last two weeks of his summer wishing Lily was there to see the heavy lightning storms with him.

\--

It's 1968, and Lily has more energy than ever. In the last year, she has taken up an interest in art. She brings the fancy, expensive pastels she got for Christmas out to the woods with her in the morning and tries to teach James how to draw faces. 

They practice by drawing each other, and Lily’s is far better. She spends a lot of time getting his eyes just right, mixing yellows and oranges and browns in search of the correct shade. She still isn’t satisfied at the end.

James, also, has a new interest. He has taken up martial arts, which Lily tries to do. She enjoys it until James puts her in a headlock, then she starts to cry. That same day, Lily goes home early to rest because she says she’s tired. The next morning, James brings her biscuits his mum served for breakfast, the earl grey ones Lily likes, and all is forgiven. 

Lily convinces James to let her paint his nails and he agrees so long as they can be green, which he says is his new favourite colour. When Lily admits she has no green polish, James agrees to let her paint them purple. 

The paint chips off in a matter of days, and James finds himself missing the colour, so he lets her do it again. 

Lily asks what his birthday is, and he tells her 27th of March. He asks her about hers and she says the 30th of February.

Before Lily gets in the car to go, James gives her a tin of the biscuits she likes, as a late birthday present, and she hugs him again. James' dad teases him for the gift, and James pulls his hair down to cover the red tips of his ears.

\--

It's 1969, and Lily brings James a bottle of lime green nail polish. James despises the colour -- too bright, he declares -- but he lets Lily use it anyway. 

Halfway through the summer, Lily decides to cut her hair at her chin with her mother’s kitchen scissors. It comes out awkward and uneven, curling up to her ears. James mocks her mercilessly for it until she pushes him into the lake and calls him a bully. James does not mention her hair again, though he does quite like the way her mother fixes it, by trimming the curls above her ears. He thinks it makes her look like a fairy. 

The rest of the summer is beautiful, if boring. Lily doesn’t want to swim as much. She says it makes her tired. James is okay with this, even if it isn’t as much fun as their diving competitions. On days she’s too tired to swim, Lily brings her art kit and draws while James swims. She never lets him see what she draws. She says it’s too awful for the human eye. James doubts this. 

In late July, both families huddle in the Potters' sitting room to watch a man land on the moon, and Lily dribbles onto James' shoulder when she falls asleep. Petunia teases her for it as they leave the Potters' house and the next morning finds a frog in her bed.

Before she gets in the car that summer, Lily gives him a drawing of their lake. James pins it up over his bed and dreams of their next summer.

\--

It's 1970 and the summer is quite boring. Lily is too tired to do almost anything for the first month. Some days, her mother tells James she is too tired to come out at all, so James goes alone to sit by the lake. He writes a list of jokes to tell her and ends up ditching most of them when he sees her the next day. 

On days she comes out, Lily is quiet. She does not swim and she does not climb. James asks what’s wrong, but Lily just says she doesn’t feel well. Instead of swimming, James stays on the shore with her. Lily shows him how to make daisy chains. He becomes quite good, making her a crown that wears until it falls to pieces.

Lily draws their tree and gives the drawing to James. He pins this one up, too, and the very next morning he wakes to the sound of an ambulance. 

Lily is taken away in the early hours of the morning, and James doesn’t get to say goodbye. His parents sit him down and explain that Lily’s heart has never worked properly, that this is why she’s always tired. They explain that she got an infection in her new heart and that this is why she had to leave for the hospital. They tell him that she probably will not be back for the rest of the summer. 

They are right. James spends the last month of the summer alone. 

\--

It's 1971, and Lily is not allowed to go into the woods at all, because her mum is worried she might get ill. James sits on her lawn, on a blanket, and eats lunches her mum makes them. Lily smiles, but not nearly as much as before. She is smaller than ever, so small that James thinks she might blow away when it's windy, and this scares him. 

She wears bandages on her chest, and when she laughs her chest hurts. 

James brings wildflowers into the yard for her and they make chains. His are all chaos, one blossom after another, while hers are orderly lines, patterns designed to look good together. Lily’s hands shake as she tells him about being in the hospital most of the school year, and about getting someone else’s heart put in her chest for the second time in her life.

There was something wrong with her heart when she was born, Lily explains, as she paints his toes lime green. She tells him about when she was little when her heart would stop beating and she would just fall over until they figured out how to stop it. She tells him about her surgery last year, her first new heart, and how it had made her sicker. 

James asks if she will be alright (because he is worried), and Lily says yes. 

In the last week of the summer, James’ dad takes them both camping in the woods. He teaches them how to set up a tent properly and how to start a fire. They roast marshmallows over the fire and Lily's arms get tired from holding her stick, so James splits his perfect ones with her. 

In the morning, Lily is too tired to walk back so James’ dad carries her back to the houses. James doesn’t see her again that summer because she needs her rest, so he gives her mother the extra bag of marshmallows for Lily to take back to the city with her. 

James tells his dad that he thinks it's unfair what Lily is like, and James’ dad agrees. 

\--

It's 1972, and Lily is new again. 

She is allowed to swim again and it is all she wants to do. They leave early in the morning to practice their dives and don't leave until after sunset. Despite her enthusiasm, Lily always starts shivers in the water after a few minutes. They take breaks to warm themselves in the sun.

Lily never wears a swimsuit anymore. Or if she does, she wears a shirt over it. James isn’t sure why.

When they're not swimming, they’re talking. James tells Lily about his new school and the new friends he's met there. He talks about Sirius, who is anything but serious, and about Remus, who is sick like her, and about Peter, who he thinks would love to learn to draw with her. He talks about bringing them to the lake one day, and Lily says she cannot wait to meet them. 

They climb up to their spot in the tree. They are taller now, and he is bigger, and their feet are pressed together, their knees bent awkwardly, but it’s not bad. Lily loves seeing the world up high again. She tells him about the hospital room with the view so high she could see all of London. She tells him about homeschooling and how boring it is, how Petunia gets more irritated when Lily's ill. She shows him her best cursive by dragging a stick through the muddy shore to write her name. 

For the first time in years, James pushes Lily into the lake. She kicks his shin under the water and he tugs her ankle to pull her underwater. Her skin is pinker than before, warmer -- her eyes are brighter than before, and this summer feels like the first. 

When it ends, Lily tells him to bring his friends next summer. 

\--

It's 1973, and James does not bring his friends. Sirius’ parents refuse to let him come, and Remus is too sick, and Peter’s family was already going on vacation in America, so he comes alone to their place. He does not mind because, if he were being honest, he isn't certain he is ready to give up their place yet. He likes having Lily to himself, even if only for a few months.

Lily is different this summer. For the first time since James has known her, she has pounds to spare. She has filled out over the school year which, to her delight, she had gotten to complete at an actual school building instead of her kitchen table. James smiles at the flush of her cheeks as she launches into a story about the field trip to The National Gallery, where she had fallen in love with the way Monet painted. 

She spends the summer learning to paint, and the lake is her muse. She brings her canvas out to the lakeside and attempts to capture a still image from something that doesn't seem to stop moving. 

James swims sometimes, but sometimes he likes to watch Lily perfect her technique. He watches her brush flick across the canvas, watches her fingers flex as she tries to keep them steady. By the end of July, Lily has decided painting is not her skill, but she lets James have the painting. It doesn't look much like their lake, but James sits it on his dresser anyway. 

When she isn’t painting, Lily is _happy_. She launches herself from the hilltop and into the water. She swims across the lake to collect rocks from the opposite shore. She sunbathes on the bridge and swats James on the nose when he tries to scare her by rocking the boards from underneath. 

Summer of ‘73 is a good one, and James is _happy._

The day before the Evans’ leave, both of the families meet at the lake to enjoy the sun. Petunia lounges on a towel the entire afternoon and keeps her mouth shut. Lily’s dad brings sandwiches and crisps. James’ dad goads him into competitions to see who can hold their breath the longest, who can jump the highest, who can splash the most, and Lily is their judge. Lily’s mum fusses over her burgeoning sunburn and Lily laughs, _really_ laughs until she cries, and the summer is good. 

Before she leaves, Lily kisses James on the cheek. 

\--

It's 1974, and James does bring his friends this time. They are fourteen and they are idiots, and he cannot wait to spend the summer with his best mates. Remus is still feeling ill, but he does his best to keep his spirits up, and Sirius keeps up a constant line of jokes until Remus tells him to shut up. He is between treatments and it leaves him irritable most of the time.

Lily has to come late with her dad that summer because she was nominated for an art competition in London and she has to go and show off for the competition. When she finally comes to the Potters' door two weeks later than usual, James punches Sirius for commenting on how pretty she is. Lily blushes but ultimately ignores Sirius. There are changes in her, changes James tries to ignore. He is mostly unsuccessful. Lily is not a little girl anymore.

They get along well, Lily and the boys. They spend the summer like they always do, and being with so many boys seems to bring out a competitive side in Lily. She and Sirius race each other across the lake. Sirius usually wins, but Lily pushes him underwater if he's too much of a sore winner. Remus and Lily compare hospital stories. She usually wins, because she’s been to more hospitals for more time, but Remus doesn't seem to resent her for being a sore winner. 

Lily teaches Peter how to draw of person. Peter listens far better than James did and, though his results are not fantastic, Lily is kind and encouraging, and gives him pointers for how to better shade in the details of his subjects. 

On the colder mornings, when the boys are sluggish getting out of bed, James and Lily go for walks in the woods. Lily collects wildflowers that she takes home, and refuses to tell James her plans for them. As they walk, they often hold hands and swing them back and forth like children while Lily teaches him the songs from her beloved music class. 

Sirius teases him for holding hands with Lily, and Peter pushes Sirius off the bridge while they are out looking for tadpoles. 

Both sets of parents head to the city to have dinner together, and Sirius smuggles an old bottle of brandy out to the lake that they pass around. Lily takes only a few sips and Remus refuses on account of his pills, and they sing loudly, ridiculously, as they splash through the dark lake.

At the end of the summer, Lily hugs each of them. She hugs James longer than the rest, and James tries to ignore Sirius’ snickers. 

\--

It's 1975, and James’ friends tag along for another summer. 

When Lily meets them on the path to the lake, James cannot help but notice the differences between them. He is significantly taller than her, having shot up several centimetres in the past year. She has to look up to see his eyes, and she squints to look at him. Lily calls James gangly, and James calls Lily stubby, and they both have a hard time looking away from each other. 

The summer feels different than those before it. Remus, who has to leave their vacation early for his next round of treatment, breaks down in tears during a drunken night of cards. Lily, ever level-headed, holds him until he is done, and no one speaks of it again. When Remus leaves with his mum, Lily gives him a folded sheet of paper from her sketchbook and a kiss on the cheek. 

Lily tells James after Remus leaves when she was walking the night before, she had seen Sirius and Remus kissing in the woods. This seems strange to James, at first, but then it makes a lot of sense. 

James thanks Lily for her kindness toward Remus with a kiss to the forehead, given beneath their tree while Sirius is finishing off the brandy, and they avoid each other's eyes the rest of the night.

The rest of the summer passes quickly.

Sirius is angry with his family and the world after Remus leaves and he takes it out on Peter until Peter punches him in the face for calling him pathetic. After that incident, Sirius restrains his complaints to drunken rants to James. On the nights that Sirius brings alcohol, Lily does not take more than a few sips. She eventually admits it isn’t good for her heart, and James takes the bottle out of her hands. Once he knows, James refuses to drink either. Sirius is put off by this until he realizes it gives him more to drink. 

Peter goes to bed early one night and takes Sirius with him, and James and Lily climb up into their tree. This time, they no longer fit the way they used to, and they are forced to sit with their feet hanging off the branch. Their shoulders press together and Lily’s hand keeps touching James', and he looks at her bright green eyes and he wonders what it would feel like to kiss her. 

He doesn’t do it, but he wants to. He really wants to because her smile makes his brain go fuzzy now, and her hand is always soft in his in the morning, and she wears those sweaters he likes, and he thinks she is the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. 

The Potters leave early this year, taking Peter and Sirius with them because James’ dad has work to do and James has to say goodbye to Lily in front of his mother and it all feels so incredibly wrong. He settles for a second kiss to her forehead that makes her smile and gets into the car feeling like the worst kind of coward. 

\--

It's 1976, and the summer is hotter than anyone could remember in years. They all drive out together in James’ dad’s car, even though James had hoped to drive himself after getting his license. Sirius cracks a joke about him wanting to impress Lily and James punches him in the arm for it. 

It is the first summer after Sirius has left his family home and he is desperate to have a good time. He tells James about the particularly nasty argument he had with his parents the night he left, one in which they made several homophobic remarks, during a very long night of drinking back in London. James is happy to welcome his best friend into his home and thrilled that bringing him to the lake house did not have to become another fight with the staunchly conservative Blacks. 

Sirius breaks out a stolen bottle of his dad's whiskey on the first night. Even Lily takes a glass of the twelve-year-old liquor, toasting to Sirius’ freedom. Remus downs two and sicks up in the bushes. Sirius sits with him while he recovers, teasing him for not being able to take his liquor. Lily brings him water from her bag and kicks Sirius for letting him get so far gone. 

They sit in a lazy circle and talk about nothing. The air is warm and sticky, and Lily sweats through her sweater. When she finally removes it, James tries not to stare at the angry red scar that cuts her chest in half. Later, when they’re walking home together at the back of the group, Lily asks how he feels about the scar. He calls it badass.

She laughs. He doesn’t. 

On a humid morning in July, when they’re sitting on her front lawn, she tells him that she had her first kiss at Christmas, with a boy from her neighbourhood, Snape. James frowns until she describes it as _wet in the worst way_ , then he laughs. Besides, he thinks, he has no right to be jealous. He had kissed that girl Nina from school and it had most certainly not been terrible. 

Still, James goes to sleep that night thinking about what it would be like to be Lily’s first kiss.

They go swimming on the first of August and Lily wears a swimsuit, a simple black one piece. Her scar stands out against pale skin, and James sees her toying with the zipper of her hoodie. He lopes an arm around her shoulders and walks her up the hill, cracking a joke about her breasts. She kicks him in the shin and chucks her hoodie onto the grass before she jumps. 

Sirius and Remus kiss when they think no one is looking, and when people _are_ looking. Lily splashes Sirius in the back of the head. He flips her off and Remus dunks him in the water for disrespecting Lily.

Peter and Lily float out to the middle of the lake holding each other’s feet so they won’t float away. James cuts his shin slipping out of their tree, and Sirius pretends to kiss it better. 

It’s a good summer. A long summer. A summer of laughter and friendship. 

The morning that the Evans are set to leave, James walks with Lily to the lake. She wears a t-shirt with no bra, and he can see her scar stretching across the skin, paler in the morning light. He asks if it ever hurts and she says not anymore. He wants to kiss her then, too, after seeing the pensive look in her eye. 

He doesn’t. She leaves that afternoon, and James kicks himself. 

\--

It's 1977, and the summer is wet. It rains through most of the summer and the ground is constantly muddy. Remus comes straight from a round of treatment and spends the first day and a half in the bathroom vomiting into the toilet. Sirius sits with him, silently, and holds his hand. Peter brings them crackers and water, and James sulks as he waits for the rain to pass, for Lily to join them. 

Lily comes a few days late because her family had to help Petunia move into her new flat in Surrey, where she is going to work. Lily does not want to talk about Petunia, so they sit on the porch and watch the lightning flash across the sky. James tells her about the last time they had lightning storms during the summer here, and how he had wished she could be there. Lily makes him pinkie swear to watch the next lightning storm with her. He agrees, but Lily keeps his pinkie in hers.

When Remus is feeling better, they all don their swimsuits and trudge through the rain and the mud, determined not to let the rain keep them from their traditions. They’re drenched by the time they make it to the lake and Lily is shivering horrifically, but Sirius still leaps into the water. 

Lily throws off her useless towel to the ground and legs it into the water, squealing into her hands as she sinks into the water. When she turns to look back at the shore, her hair sticks to her face and her skin is paler than pale, but she smiles and so does James. 

Remus sits out of the water and shivers under their tree, while James and Lily race to the bridge. By the time they reach it, their muscles feel like rubber bands, exhausted by the frigid temperatures. James helps Lily up onto the bridge and she curls into his side. They watch from afar, sinking their toes into the mud beneath the bridge, as Sirius tries to convince Remus to join in his diving competition. 

The rain slows to a stop as they’re walking home. They head back to James’ house where they wash the mud away in hot showers before moving to the kitchen for tea and earl grey biscuits. Lily leans against James, insisting that he is far cosier than the counter, and Sirius rolls his eyes. 

They watch a movie in James’ living room while his parents go out for dinner, and Sirius falls asleep with his head in Remus’ lap. 

The rest of the summer has middling temperatures. They swim some days, but other days they sit on the shore and talk or draw. Lily teaches them all how to paint with watercolours, and is annoyed when Sirius turns out to be better than her. 

On one of the warmer nights, they take James’ dad’s tent out to the lake. Lily attempts to set it up the way they had been taught but mucks it up. Peter fixes it for her, as his family are avid campers, and James and Sirius have a competition to see who can start a fire faster. Remus ends up running back to the house for matches after Lily starts complaining of starvation. 

They sing Lily’s loudest school songs and compare ghost stories. James is the best at storytelling, but Peter is also good. When it’s time to sleep, they are hard-pressed to fit into the tent together. James had forgotten how small it was and finds himself crushed between Sirius and Lily. Sirius’ shoulder digs uncomfortably into his back. Lily is an entirely different issue. 

The tent is not meant for five near-adults, so Lily and James end up moving their sleeping bags outside when neither of them can find sleep. Lily sits up to fuss with the glowing remains of their fire, and James sits up to watch the way her shoulder blades move beneath her far-too-small pyjama top. 

Sometime in the night, they find themselves discussing ideas like fate, destiny, and soulmates. James is surprised to find he has a lot of thoughts on the matter. 

The night before both families leave, they meet for dinner at the Potter house. Lily’s dad brings out a fifty-year-old whiskey that they allow the kids to sample as an _educational experience_. James and Lily sit next to each other and whisper to each other as the adults discuss the economy. Lily touches his hand and James wants to personally thank whoever decided to include Lily in his fate. 

After dinner, James and Lily take a walk to the lake. James does not need much convincing when Lily twists her fingers into his curls, guiding his mouth onto hers. Her lips taste of fifty-year-old whiskey and Shepphard's pie, and James knows she will be the death of him.

When they part ways in the morning, she kisses his cheek and he feels like he just won the lottery. 

\--

It's 1978, but Lily does not come. The Evans’ say that she has to stay in Cokeworth to figure out her post-graduation plans. James tries not to read into it. 

He swims with his mates. He sits on the bridge and dips his toes in the mud and thinks about how well Lily’s body had fit against his. How her mouth had felt against his.

He drives to the city with the boys to eat greasy chips and avoids the eye of the waitress that shamelessly flirts with him. 

The summer is long. The summer is unending. 

\--

It’s 1979, and it is like nothing has changed -- as if no time has passed since their kiss at the lakeside. James has a moment to resent her, but then she smiles that way she does and he forgets why he was upset. 

She knocks on his door the first night and kisses him right in the doorway, right in front of his parents. She tastes of meatloaf, he notices, as she steps into his home. The Potters greet her happily, but James is eager to speak with her. 

When he presses her for answers, Lily gives a noncommittal shrug. Time to think, she calls it, after graduating. She tells him she's decided against uni and he is shocked because Lily has always wanted to go to uni. A gap year, she calls it, with a mischievous smile that is entirely too Sirius.

He shouldn’t. James knows he shouldn’t give in that easily, but then they’re alone and he’s kissing her and he’s forgotten why he shouldn’t be. His pride flies out the window with her. 

They spend the summer getting reacquainted. 

They swim with the boys most days, as it is a warmer summer. July is the warmest and they spend almost every day at the lake. Lily brings her art supplies and her nail polish. She paints Sirius’ toes lime green with the fresh bottle she had to order from the only catalogue she could find carrying the hideous colour and, though he protests while she is painting them, Sirius lets her do it again in a week. 

Remus swims again. He hasn’t had a treatment cycle in a few months and he’s in remission. Life is good. They are kids, splashing about in the water and lounging against each other in the grass. They live on roasted marshmallows and alcohol, staying out later than before. 

Lily teaches Peter how to make daisy chains and they make each other bracelets. Lily wears her until it breaks off in the water, and she is so genuinely apologetic after realizing she had lost his gift that the boys tease her for it. 

There are differences, James realizes, in Lily, but he forgets them the moment she presses a kiss to his neck or drapes her legs over his. They become distant worries, and he just enjoys being with her. It’s easy to be with Lily -- to hug her, to kiss her, to laugh with her. She makes it so easy. 

Sirius nicks a bottle of scotch from James’ dad and they split it between them in tumblers from Lily’s kitchen. Lily downs two servings in quick succession and snuggles into James’ side. Sirius tells the story of when they snuck into a teacher’s office at school to copy the test answers, and Lily will not stop looking at James in a way that makes him want to drag her to his bedroom. 

They sneak off into the woods and snog against a tree. Lily laughs against his mouth when he trips over a fallen tree in the dark, then gasps when he hoists her up to his waist in the next step. The breath in her lungs is sweet. Her chest aches when she kisses him. He nips at _that_ spot on her shoulder and she shudders.

He makes them stop before he cannot control himself, and she purses her lips. 

Back with the group, she fills her glass once more. 

The next morning, her mum tells the boys she’s still asleep after last night. James is disappointed, but he enjoys a morning with his mates waiting for her. Lily comes to meet them late in the afternoon with a basket of snacks. James tries to kiss her, but she turns away at the last moment, cheekily biting into one of her biscuits. 

August is quiet. Lily enjoys floating in the water. Sometimes she will let James join her, and cling his hand like a lifeline, but she does not talk. 

Toward the end of the summer, they camp out again. James wants to suggest moving outside again, but when he tries Lily is already asleep, so he curls an arm around her waist and tries to sleep with Peter’s nose digging into his spine. 

When it’s time to leave, he asks for her phone number. She gives it to him but warns him that she might not be home to answer. She doesn't say why. James kisses her before she gets in the car with her parents. She doesn’t look back. She doesn’t cry. 

\--

It's 1980, and it feels like the end of an era. James has a job. _Sirius_ has a job. It felt incredibly wrong. And of course, Remus has a job, a real job, one that meant he couldn’t come out at all, which left him with Sirius and Peter. What’s more, James had heard through his mother that Petunia had gotten married earlier in the year. He could hardly believe it.

He had tried to call the Evans’ house in Cokeworth over the year. Three times. But each time, Rose Evans had told him Lily was not home and wouldn’t be for weeks. Yet every time that he tried again, she still seemed to elude him. 

For the first time in James' life, his parents were staying in the city for the summer. James’ dad had far too much work to come this year, and James’ mum didn't want to go without him, so James, Sirius and Peter drove out together in his mum’s car with the music up high. They were unsupervised.

They go straight to the Evans’ door when they arrive, only to be told that Lily would not be able to come out until a week into their two-week stay, leaving them a measly seven days to reconnect with their friend.

No longer could James pretend that Lily was his secret -- she belongs to the rest of the world, too. 

James and his mates camp out for three days in his dad’s tent. It is much less cramped without Remus and Lily, but James misses the scent of her coconut shampoo. 

Lily does show up, eventually. She drives up in a car James has never seen before, and there’s a man with her. Amos Diggory -- he introduces himself. Lily avoids James’ gaze the entire time he and Amos speak, her cheeks red. 

That night, James goes to bed thinking about what it would be like to punch Amos in the face. Sirius is outraged on James’ behalf and suggests leaving early, but James refuses.

Amos, ever friendly, invites them to the lake that night to talk. 

It’s significantly fancier than usual, as Diggory brings actual glasses to drink from, and wine that looks like it certainly did not come from his dad’s cupboard. He yammers on about his job in the city at some bank as the sun sets. 

Lily drinks until it's a bit hard to think and pretends to snooze against Amos’ shoulder. When he leaves, James calls out a _good night_ specifically to her. 

He knows her, she realizes, with a sinking feeling. 

Amos doesn’t enjoy swimming, but he comes to the lake every day without fail, even on days that Lily gives him permission to laze around the house instead. Lily wears a swimsuit with a high neckline that hides her scar, and James wonders if Amo even knows about it. He hopes not. 

Sirius accidentally-on-purpose shoves Lily out of his way as he pushes into the water. She stumbles a bit in the slippery muck at the lake’s bottom before righting herself. She asks about Remus and Sirius gives a snotty answer. James silently watches her wade out of the water to read on the hill with Amos. 

Their week feels too quick and too slow and too different and too the same, and James can hardly take it. 

Lily’s mum invites them over for dinner on Friday, and Lily says yes, it would be okay if they came, so they show up in their nicest outfits to sit on the Evans’ back patio. Lily’s dad asks if Peter is enjoying university, and Peter helpfully takes over the conversation with talk of the biology class he has been forced to take. 

Lily downs her wine in one go and reaches for a refill. 

After the party, James finds her in the kitchen washing dishes for her mum. Amos is outside talking to Peter and her mum is in the upstairs closet searching for the baby photos she had mentioned to Sirius, and it feels safe to look at each other now. He smiles at her and she smiles at him. She gives him a tea towel and he dries. They don't need to speak. 

When they're finished, she turns to look at him and she says sorry. But James isn't sure what to say, so he says nothing, and she kisses him. She apologizes again, rushes up the stairs, and James hates himself. 

They don’t see each other on Saturday, but she sees her out his window walking with Diggory. They’re holding hands and she smiles at him and he smiles at her and James feels sick. 

He thinks it’s over, but she shows up at his bedroom door early Sunday morning -- he has no idea how she got in -- and she kisses him again. This time, he kisses her back.

Her fingers are freezing where they brush his neck, but her mouth is so hot it feels like she's burning him. He lets her kiss him where she likes; he nibbles _that_ spot and she digs her nails into his back. It’s easy, so easy to let himself fall into this, especially when she’s here and touching and kissing and pulling at his clothing. 

He takes what he wants, what she begs for, and they cling to each other afterwards. 

She cries. He holds her tighter and he doesn’t ask why. 

When he wakes up, she’s gone. 

\--

It’s 1981, and if he weren’t certain she would disappear by August, James Potter would have been incandescently happy with Lily Evans. 

This Lily is not the same Lily he met so many years ago, but she is intoxicating all the same. James never knows what to expect from her, what to think, and he is drawn to her. He wants to make her smile, make her laugh.

By some miracle, they manage to pull off a solid three weeks where they could all be present. Lily still never answers the phone, but the plan was passed on by her mum. Lily shows up, and that is all that matters to James at the time. 

James kisses her on the bridge, their muddy feet dangling beneath them, and it’s perfect, it really is. In the distance, Sirius and Remus team up to launch Peter off the hilltop. 

Peter's scream of surprise can be heard across the lake, and James pushes off the bridge to help him. Behind him, Lily eases onto her back, allowing herself to drift into open water. She does this a lot now. No one dares bother her.

They roast marshmallows over a fire as the sun sets and James splits his perfect ones with Lily. She kisses melted chocolate off his lips, earning a chuckle. Sirius mimes gagging until Remus smacks him on the chest. 

Lily spends the night in James’ room, sneaking in after his parents go to sleep. Peter catches her coming out of their shared bathroom one night and distracts James' dad while she darts across the hall. The next morning when she meets them to go to the lake, Lily kisses Peter’s cheek and calls him a sweetheart. 

As August nears and, with it, the end of their three weeks together, James feels the inevitable parting coming. Desperation takes root in him as he tries to memorize everything he can about Lily Evans -- the red-gold strands in her hair she gets from the sun, the little blue flecks in her eyes that only come out when she’s relaxed, the graceful tilt of her shoulders as she pulls herself up into their tree. 

The mannerisms she doesn’t think anyone notices, the nervous tics she tries to hide. He tries to find them all, to see her as she is, to harbour in his brain until the next summer. 

She comes to him the night before they are to part ways, like usual, and they take their time. They languish in their touches, savouring the taste of each other, and James knows she’s going to disappear again. 

The next morning, she kisses him on the cheek and thanks him for a great summer. He watches her climb into the car and he cannot find it in him to be angry, not when she smiles to him through the window. Later though, on the drive home, he fumes. 

\--

It's the 16th of October, and it's surprising when James answers the phone it's her voice on the other end. He has never heard her voice over the phone before. He decides that it doesn't do her justice. 

Lily Evans invites them to her Halloween party, at her apartment in the real world. James and the boys arrive at her door in cheap pirate costumes from Tesco, and he struggles to think when she actually answers.

Her costume is breathtaking. Not only is it tight and very flattering, but it also throws him back to a simpler time. 

She is a fairy, he realizes, and a beautiful one at that. She is awash in pale purple fabric, her hair darker, richer, than he had ever seen it twisted into an intricate bun that seems to shimmer under the light. Gossamer wings flutter behind her as she kisses them each on the cheek. 

He kisses her in her doorway, without thinking, and she kisses him back. 

For the first time in years, Lily feels like a real person to James. Someone who exists outside the bubble of their summers together. They are real. _She_ is real, James thinks, as she passes him a beer. 

Lily and Sirius take simultaneous shots of tequila and Lily shakes her head in disgust at the taste. Sirius claps her on the back in encouragement and she grabs Jame’s hands tug him closer to her. Their friends knowingly turn away and Lily winds her arms around his neck to bring him into yet another kiss. This one tastes like tequila and lime. 

James lets her carry him with her through the party, taking drinks and dancing. 

And at the end of the night, when she pulls him into her bedroom, James thinks of nothing but her as he traces a finger down the scar on her chest. She sucks her trembling lower lip between her teeth and holds him closer so he won't see her tears. 

He kisses the skin he reveals, moving down, down, down until he reaches the spot he wants. She shakes beneath him, curls her cold fingers into his curls, and he groans as she pulls his body flush to her own. 

She gasps when he pushes into her, gripping his shoulders to steady herself. He can feel her heart racing against his chest, her breath stuttering. He cranes his neck to reach _that_ spot and kisses it. She throws her head back against the pillows. 

He leaves in the early hours of November 1st because he has to go to work soon, but not before getting a sleepy yes to dinner and a movie next week. And then he leaves because he really _does_ need to get to work on time, and he kisses her cheek and wishes her a happy Halloween before he slips out the door. 

\--

Looking back, James knew he should have seen something off about her. There were a million signs, he knew, thinking back on their summers. He should have seen it. 

He had been caught up in the storm of Lily, in the feeling of being the person she longed for, the person she clung to. It felt special, being Lily’s person. Magical. 

Her mum broke the news. She called James at his apartment and she told him the truth that Lily hadn’t been able to tell him. 

Her new heart had been failing her for over a year. She knew a third transplant was unlikely. She hadn’t wanted to tell him -- hadn’t been able to tell him, Rose Evans recalled Lily tearfully telling her -- how bad things had gotten. She tried to explain the science behind why her heart stopped, but all James could think was _Lily, Lily, Lily_. How, he thought, could this be?

He had seen her not a day earlier. 

Sirius came to James’ apartment when he hears, but he's too late to keep James from destroying half his place. They pour two shots of not-strong-enough whiskey in her honour and they drink it together. James drinks until it’s hard to remember what he’s drinking for, and then some. 

Time passes, and it’s harder to properly remember her voice, her smell, her smile. He forgets the shitty parts of who she was, the parts that had made him so angry, in favour of the good memories. He forgets the pain to remember the joy. Still, it hurts to think of her. 

He lays in bed and thinks of his fairy. Thinks of her smile, of the way her nose wrinkled, of the way her hair glowed in the sun. He imagines her in his bed, curled into his side, and it makes him want to punch the wall. 

Weeks pass. She’s buried in Cokeworth. Petunia comes to the funeral with her husband. He’s an altogether unpleasant man, just the way Lily had complained about him. They don’t speak to James or his mates for longer than necessary, and Petunia gives a short eulogy with some well-rehearsed story about Lily and her childhood doll, or some rubbish like that, and James has to walk out for air while she continues to speak of Lily’s love for her family and friends. 

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t know what he would say, so he doesn’t speak, even though Lily's dad asks him to. 

Remus does, and he does a damn good job. 

All James can think as her secondary school teacher goes on about her intelligence is _Lily would hate this_ \-- because she would. She wouldn’t want to see her mother crying into her father’s blazer, or her sister dutifully dabbing her nose with a handkerchief. She wouldn't want to be buried in that awful dress. She wouldn't want them to stand that picture of her at her graduation in the aisle.

For Christmas Evans’ go to the lake house in her honour. They invite the Potters and everyone. James wants to say no, but his mum makes him come. 

They eat dinner in the Evans’ dining room. Her mum keeps everyone’s glasses full of wine. They talk about her. Share stories. Swap memories. Laugh about her faults, frown about the parts of her they miss. 

As the table is being cleared, James finds himself standing outside Lily’s bedroom door. Her name is cut out of magazines and pasted to the door, and he feels strange looking at it. It feels like a different Lily, a different time, and he realizes that in all the years he had known Lily, he had never been in this bedroom. 

The door opens easily enough and James stands there, numbly. He isn't sure what he expected to happen. For Lily to jump out from behind the door and scare him, maybe. To hear her laugh at him and ask why he's so serious. _Morose._ She would call him _morose_ because it was one of her favourite words from the dictionary. 

It’s a normal enough room. Plain, with a bed and a desk and a bedside table. The bed is made in the kind of way that Lily would have made the bed -- carefully, the quilt lovingly folded over. There is nothing but an empty glass on the bedside table, beside the lamp. 

A line of books stands on the desk, mainly the children’s classics he had seen her reading when they were younger, likely school reading material: Charlotte’s Web, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Pride and Prejudice. There’s also a glass of water containing three bare, brown stems. Withered petals have fallen in a scattered at the base of the glass. 

Behind the flowers is a framed photo, one taken by their parents when James and Lily were children. He remembers the day, when they had split sausages on the hill whilst Petunia worked on her tan. A tooth is missing from each of their grins, hers on the left and his on the right. Tucked into the frame are several pressed wildflowers.

Anger that James hasn't realized he’d been harbouring comes out in a tired sigh, in a handful of proper tears, and James sags into her desk chair. He imagines her doing the same after a long day at the lake. There is comfort in doing what she would have done, in occupying her space, in holding her books and breathing her air. 

There was too much of her to ignore, James thinks, but not enough of her to remember. 

He hates her. He hates her for lying to him, for hiding, for running. 

And yet, as he thinks back on skinned knees and wobbly teeth and second kisses in the woods that taste of fifty-year-old whiskey, that if he was given the chance again, he knows he would do it all over again for the privilege of having Lily Jane Evans as his soulmate.


	2. fate, destiny and soulmates - lily's version

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the grand scheme of things, Lily Evans never thought of her life as a tragedy. 
> 
> Yes, there were the heart breaking moments. Evenings spent curled up in pain, weeks she spent hooked up to heart monitors in a London hospital, months where every breath felt like effort. But there were also beautiful summers filled with light and laughter and love.
> 
> And, of course, there was always James.

1966\. 

A summer of wildness. I remember meeting you in the woods for the first time, then every morning after that. I remember the feeling of bark under my feet, mud under my nails, lake water dripping from my hair. I remember the feeling of victory that came when I found your lost tooth.

Mostly, I remember feeling normal when I was with you. I remember how you laughed at my jokes and held my hands. I remember how much you treated me like any other kid. 

Mum asked if I wanted your number for when we got back to Cokeworth. I almost said yes, but then I had this awful thought. This absolutely awful thought about what would happen if you found out I wasn’t actually normal and what you would do if you found out.

It was childish and it was selfish and yet I never outgrew that absolutely awful thought.

I told myself then that it was for you that I wanted to be normal, at least in the summer. It was for you that I kept you at a distance. But it wasn’t, I know that. It was entirely for me and it was entirely selfish. 

Because I was so lonely. I was always so lonely all the time and then, in one summer, I suddenly wasn’t. I wanted to savor those few months of being normal. 

Because my heart was always worse, said my doctor, never better. Because Severus would never let me climb trees when he was around. Because I was never really going to be normal, so what was the harm in pretending to just one person that I was?

1967\. 

I spent my seventh birthday party in the hospital eating pudding cake and playing cards with Dad. I have to sleep on a stiff hospital mattress.

Since the day I was old enough to understand, I knew I was sick. Before I was a year old, I had my first heart surgery. I was never not sick. Mum told me I was born with a heart defect and I would probably never be not sick. 

I knew I was sick, but that didn’t make it any easier because in 1967 I was actually sick. 

All the time I was sick. When I wasn’t too tired to get out of bed, I was too tired to learn. It got so bad that I had to be homeschooled. I couldn’t eat and I couldn’t think and I couldn’t do anything except wish that I was better. 

I got into my first fight with my mum because she wanted to cancel the lake. In the end, I won because I got to see you again. In some ways, I could pretend that nothing had changed. In other ways, it wasn’t. My chest still hurt and I had trouble getting out of bed.

But I got up every day that summer for you. I hope you know it was for you. 

Mum would tease that you were sweet on me and Dad would grumble about it and Petunia would turn her nose up when she saw you coming to get me after breakfast. As the summer ticked by, I began to feel guilty. 

So I told you. I told you that I was sick and you didn’t care. You didn’t care and the next day you knocked on my door all the same and you brought your mum’s earl grey biscuits and I thought I had never met a kinder person. I swear I smiled the rest of the summer every time you looked at me. 

You didn’t care. 

1967\. The call for my second heart came that August. Mum and Dad told me over strawberries and cream that same night and we had to leave early. When we left for the hospital, I hugged you as tight as I could because even then you were taller than me and even then I knew that I would miss you.

When I think back, I think 1967 was when I fell in love with you.

The room I was in after my surgery saw most of London. When I couldn’t move yet I watched the lightning and thunder outside my window. It was hard to be so still. For weeks after I got out of the hospital my hair was hopelessly tangled. It got so bad Mum had to hold me down and brush it out.

Your mum sent flowers to the hospital for me. I got into my second fight with my mum because I thought she had told you about my new heart. She swore she didn’t. I didn’t believe her and I was always too afraid to ask you. 

When I started school that fall I got to be in a real classroom again. My old friends remembered my face and Severus offered to carry my books every day.

My favorite class was art with Amelia Carmichael, who said that we should call her Amelia. This scandalized my dad. Amelia was kind and pretty and old, and she went out of her way to check on each of us during class. She decorated our classroom with posters of famous art and replicas of ancient sculptures and she would burn candles that smelled like rosemary every morning. 

That classroom was my favorite place in the entire world. Amelia was my favorite person in the entire world. She made me feel safe and made me laugh and when she looked at my art she said that I was wiser than I looked.

Before Christmas that year, I collapsed in Amelia’s classroom. 

After that I had to drop out of real school again and learn at the hospital. I thought I would never see any of my normal life again, but Amelia came to the hospital. She brought a rosemary candle for Mum and a notepad and a pack of expensive drawing pencils. She would come every Wednesday evening for the rest of the time I spent in the hospital and she would teach me to draw people. 

For Christmas, Mum and Dad got me a pack of pastels.

I know that 1967 was the year I became an artist. 

1968\. 

On my eighth birthday I got to sleep in my own bed. Petunia helped me bake a cake too big for four people and Mum made a casserole for dinner. I didn’t eat any of my vegetables and Dad didn’t say a word about it. It was the best birthday I could remember having at the time. 

I got to go back to regular school again. Petunia walked me there every morning and picked me up every afternoon. This was fine with me because I never got to see her anyway and it was nice to talk to my big sister. Petunia even taught me how to paint her nails that year and she gave me a bottle of purple polish as a belated birthday gift. 

At the end of that school year, Amelia sent me home with a folder of all my work from the year. I pinned them up in my bedroom like my own art gallery, a collection according to Lily Evans. 

I spent that summer trying to teach you how to draw. You were rubbish, but you made me laugh when you drew my nose like a turkey leg and you were patient with me when I insisted on redoing your hair a fifth time and you were so excited to show me your martial arts moves. I cannot stay upset at you. 

You even let me paint your nails as an apology for being too rough. You only complained about the purple twice and you always let me redo them when it wore off. I loved that summer.

I took your mum’s biscuits home with me that summer. When I had eaten them all, I saved the pretty metal tin with all my drawings from the summer inside. I hid it under all the clothes that didn’t fit me anymore.

I spent most of Amelia’s class in the fall painting Petunia and I. It was one of my favorite pictures of us. I poured my heart into it. On Christmas morning Petunia barely glanced at it. Instead of staying for dinner with us, she went to meet her friends down the lane. Mum told me then that this was just a kids-Petunia’s-age thing. 

1969

For my ninth birthday, Mum threw this huge party to celebrate. She invited all of my friends, even Severus, and she makes a cake so big the icing just barely covers it. 

The week before, the doctors had found out my new heart was failing. I was on three new pills to manage it. I spent a week in the hospital when I couldn’t walk without getting lightheaded. 

Petunia didn’t talk to me at all in 1969. Our walks to school and back were always silent. 

The school year was lonely because Severus had new friends and I had no friends and I was spending every lunch block in Amelia Carmichael’s classroom. 

At the end of that year, Amelia retired. She gave me one of her rosemary candles as a farewell gift. 

Mum and Dad told me I could repaint my bedroom as a reward for my good marks that year, but I think they were just trying to cheer me up. I chose the brightest yellow I could find in the store and Petunia pretended to gag every time she passed my room for a week after.

On the way to the lake house that summer we stopped to get gas at this little store and they had the ugliest lime green nail polish I had ever seen in my life. I begged Dad to buy it for me and I remember the tight excitement in my chest when I thought about what you would think when I showed it to you. 

You hated it, of course, but you let me paint your nails with it anyway. You are always good in that way. I couldn’t stop giggling the entire time I painted your nails and I refused to tell you why. 

I was exhausted that whole summer but I remember trying so hard to hide it from you. I pretended I would rather draw than swim and I spent the summer learning to sketch landscapes. The lake made a wonderful muse. 

I remember the morning I cut my hair. I don’t know why I did it, not even today. I was brushing through it and I hit this snag and I couldn’t quite get it. I blinked and I was looking down at all that hair at my feet. Mum made me sit on the patio where you could see from your house while she shaped the mess into something resembling normal. I remember wanting to hide my face the entire time. 

I didn’t mind it as much when I noticed how much you liked to tug on the little curls. 

When we sat in your house and watched the moon landing I could feel you playing with my hair. It felt so nice I couldn’t help but drift off. I always wondered where you found the frog you put in Petunia’s bed. How long did that take you? Did you keep frogs somewhere, ready to prank Tuney with?

I gave you my best attempt at drawing the lake when we left and the crooked smile you gave me made my heart pound. You promised to keep it forever and I giggled in the back seat most of the drive home. 

I was happy. I was always happy in the summer, with you, with my life. It never lasted once we got back to Cokeworth. 

1969 was also the year that the doctors said if I didn’t get a new heart mine could fail within two years. My body was rejecting every attempt to save it and it made me furious. Everything about my life at home that year made me furious. 

I was always sick, to the point that I could never eat with the rest of the class. No one wanted to miss lunch to sit with me and Severus always got upset if I asked. The new art teacher, who insisted we only call him Mr. Stolte, refused to let me work in Amelia’s classroom. I always ended up reading in the halls all through the lunch block. 

In one of my books I remember finding a leave from our place. I had it taped up in my locker. Over Christmas break I had to pull out of school again and Petunia threw it away when she came to clear out my locker. 

Mum suggested inviting you for dinner in the New Year. I made her promise to never call you. I refused to bring this between us. 

1970.

My tenth birthday was quiet. I was in and out of the hospital most of January but I got to spend it at home, eating fish and playing cards. When it was time to go to sleep that night I was too tired to make it up the stairs and Dad had to carry me.

I skipped most of school the rest of the year. The doctors told us then that it was unlikely my heart would last another year if they couldn’t find a solution. 

I was so glad when summer came, but it was the worst one yet. 

Mum and I fought most of that summer. I was mad at her for talking to your mum about me and she was mad at me for refusing to stay in bed. It was miserable to be in that house so, no matter how tired I was, I came out with you as often as possible. 

Even when I could make it to the lake I could never swim or climb without getting sick, so I told you I only wanted to draw. You never seemed upset. 

Maybe that was when I fell in love with you. It’s impossible to tell now. 

I spent the rest 1970 in the hospital, in a children’s ward with a view of London. 

1971\. 

I spent my eleventh birthday alone. My infection was so bad that my family can’t come in my room without getting me sicker. On my eleventh birthday, I thought I was going to die because I couldn’t breathe and my mum wasn’t there. 

I didn’t die. Not then, anyway. 

My infection got better and Mum and Dad and Tuney were allowed to visit again. Slowly I was allowed to draw again, allowed to kiss my mum goodbye, allowed to get my nails painted by Petunia. 

I had surgery and I had a tutor that came in to teach me math and make me read. 

And then my miracle happened.

Her name was Hannah and she was ten. 

My new heart was Mum’s favorite thing about me and it wasn’t even mine. She made me write a letter to Hannah’s grandparents to thank them. I don’t remember now what I wrote. I wish I did. I wish I could remember what I wrote and I wish that I could tell Hannah’s grandparents that they should have given their granddaughter’s heart to somebody else. Somebody who actually had a chance to use it for longer.

I didn’t look at the scar from my surgery the entire summer. I don’t know why. The very thought of the thing used to turn my stomach. 

You were sweet that summer. You asked no questions and you waited for me. You were the first friend I ever had who waited for me. You didn’t let me be alone. 

When I finally told you about the surgery, you told me you were glad I was alright. That night I wrote you a letter.

I wrote about how you made me feel when you smiled. 

I wrote about how it was completely worth the pain to laugh with you. 

I remember every word in that letter and I wish I had never gotten rid of it. 

I wish I had the guts to tell you those things. 

I wish I wasn’t such a coward. I wish I had done a lot of things a lot sooner. 

1972\. 

I turned twelve in my home. I got to eat ice cream and learn poker. I celebrated catching up on school by painting on my new easel. The first thing I painted on it was a self portrait. I painted myself the way I wished I looked. I painted myself normal. 

Long, flowing hair. Perfect skin with no scars. Normal.

I hid it in my closet with all the others.

Before the summer I had to go pick out a new swimsuit because my old ones were too small. I was gaining weight back, which was good. Petunia came with us and for once I got to be the one shouting at my mum in the middle of the department store. 

I hated every single suit there. I just remember looking at my scar and thinking it was hideous, the ugliest thing in the world. I thought I looked disgusting when it was out. 

You told me about your new school and your new friends and all I could think then was how nice it would be to know you all the time. I wondered then if you were different at school. If you thought of me at home like I thought of you. 

I never did ask you if you did.

I remember sitting with you in our tree and watching you talk about Sirius and Remus and Peter for the first time and wishing you would look at me. Just look at me. 

That year school was boring again. It was nice to see Severus again because we were still friends at the time, but mostly I spent my school days alone. I decorated my locker with things from our summers: wildflowers and drawings of our tree. I read books that I read while I was there with you and I tried to get through the winter. 

I got to spend Christmas at home for the first time in years and I ate so much food that I hadn’t been able to eat in years. After dinner I went to try on the new dress Mum made me. It was so pretty. Cream yellow with these wildflowers printed across it. But when I looked at it in the mirror there was no ignoring what it showed. 

I never wore it again and I always regretted it. 

1973\. 

On my thirteenth birthday Mum insisted on throwing a party again, but there aren’t many of my friends left to invite. Severus comes and I remember thinking it was nice to see him without his new friends. That year the cake came from Tesco and Petunia didn’t even attend the whole party.

Afterward Mum told me about the letter she got from your mum. You had asked to see me. I refused. 

That school year was boring. I got to visit the National Gallery that year.

Secretly I was glad to see that you didn’t bring Sirius and the boys with you that summer. Is that awful? I don’t think I was ready to give our summers up yet, no matter what I said. If Sirius was there I wouldn’t have been able to practice painting like Monet. I wouldn’t have been able to hear you breathing beside me as I worked or split sausages with you in our tree. 

The day that I left that summer with my family, Petunia teased me about kissing you on the cheek. I threatened to put a frog in her bed at home and she never spoke of it again. 

It was easier to be happy that school year. It’s always easier to have friends and play normal when you know you’re at least closer to actually being it. I invited friends over. I saw Severus more that fall than I had in years. I got to join a music class.

For Christmas that year Mum made me another dress, but this one went out of its way to hide my scar. It was high necked and long sleeved and it looked like something my Great Aunt would wear. I wore that one at least once a week to school and I always regretted it.

1974.

For my fourteenth birthday I went out with some of my friends that weren’t Severus. It was the first time I had friends that were girls and now I was one of the girls-Petunia’s-age and I wanted to be normal. We went to the shopping center in Cokeworth and they were talking about boys they had crushes on. 

I told them I didn’t have a crush. One of them brought up the picture of us I had in my room at the time. I just blushed and denied feeling anything other than friendship. I was such a goddamned liar. 

That night I looked through the tin you gave me and all the sketches I did of you. None of them looked anything like you. I pinned the worst one up above my desk because I figured no one but me would ever know that that ridiculous blob could ever be you at seven. 

That school year was the one when Severus started to realize I was a girl. We used to meet at the park after dinner most evenings. He started to say things about how pretty I was and how nice I was. At the time I thought it was sweet. 

That was also the school year I submitted my art into a contest for the first time.

First prize didn’t seem nearly as exciting as meeting your friends for the first time. I had been so worried about losing you if they came, I didn’t even imagine that having the boys there could make it better. 

Remus was the first person I met in real life that was also sick. For once, I wasn’t the only one. 

And Sirius was, well, Sirius. 

The first time I met Sirius, I thought he was making fun of me. He called me pretty and you elbowed him like he wasn’t supposed to say it. I remember thinking he was mocking me. It only took a couple weeks to realize that he wasn’t. 

I wanted you to kiss me that summer. I don’t know that I ever told you that. Every time you came to pick me up in the morning for our walk, I would say a little prayer that you would kiss me. There weren’t many times when we could be alone so I thought if you were going to do it, it had to happen on those walks. 

But I suppose holding your hand for the first time made it worth it. You made my heart race in the good way, the way I hadn’t felt before then. 

That summer is one that comes to mind as one of my favorites. It felt innocent and endless. Your voice reminded me of honey and my first drinks seemed to redefine the world in the light of July. Every time you looked at me those nights made me feel giddy. 

When I got back to school, I kept taking music even though I was truly awful. 

I signed up to be Mr. Stolte’s assistant. It bought me some extra time working there on my lunch breaks. I even got to try my hand at working with clay, which did not work out for me. Severus always joined me then. I remember he used to make me blush by staring at me while I worked. It wasn’t the same way you did. You make me blush because I am constantly hoping, praying, waiting for your attention. Severus made me blush because his attention was so freely given, so intense. 

Severus became a constant companion that fall, to the point that I always seemed to know when he was nearby. I invited him over for Christmas at mine and got him a box of chocolates. He got me this really nice necklace. Even Mum seemed surprised that he could afford it. I never wore it.

1975\. 

Severus came to my house to celebrate my fifteenth birthday. He got me a framed picture of him and I that I hung on my wall. It was only there a few months before I had to take it down. I couldn’t stand to have him up there any longer. 

The summer couldn’t have come soon enough. Severus tried to make me stay in Cokeworth for the summer because he wanted to spend it with me. I think he really wanted me to invite him along, but I couldn’t. I physically could not imagine Severus in our place, doing our things, interacting with you. 

So I didn’t.

The summer felt better than ever to me. I never asked you if it felt different to you, but I remember feeling like I was unable to separate from you, like there was some invisible force pulling me toward you at all times. You had grown taller and more handsome and even though Remus is sick again and things are inevitably changing, I loved you. 

I should say I love you, because it really hasn’t changed. 

I think that summer was also different because it was the summer I also learned how to love your friends.

Remus got his treatment that summer and I understood how he felt. We went out after dinner one night and talked about it. That I know I never told you about because it was nothing Remus was ready for you to know and really nothing you would understand. We talked about the things that we both knew about being so sick for so long. When he got sick that night we played cards, I held him while he cried. 

I made Remus a portrait to take with him, but I didn’t paint him normal. I painted Remus the way Remus was supposed to look, scars and all.

Sirius was so angry all the time after Remus left, I thought that maybe he would never be able to come back from the things he said to Peter the night we were in the woods together. But then he told me about his family and all I could think was how could anyone hate Sirius? I couldn’t imagine it. I told him so.

Sirius told me I was wise that night. I just laughed. 

I felt closer to you all that summer. 

For years I would wonder if you were thinking the same thing as me the night we were left on our own, when we climbed up in our tree. Our knees were brushing each other’s and our hands were dancing around each other and all I wanted was for you to kiss me because I was too much of a coward to do it myself. 

But you didn’t, and so I left a week later and I went back home.

Petunia got her first real boyfriend that year, so all I really had at home was Severus.

At first, Severus was just irritated with me for deciding to leave for the summer after all. After a while, though, it twisted into a sort of desperation. Just as intense as ever, always pressing into me, always pushing me further than I wanted to go. 

I invited him for Christmas again and he did his pushing again, pushing me to go out alone with him. I agreed at last and we walked to the park. We were sitting on the swing sets we met on as children when he leaned forward and kissed me. 

He kissed me the way he did everything else. He was insistent, rushed and eager. All I could do was wait until he pulled away to tell him that I wasn’t interested in him. 

He called me a bitch and stormed off. Left me to walk home in the dark. I spent the night crying in the bed. 

He might not have been a good friend, but he was my only friend those days.

I tried to make it up to him, to explain that I hadn’t meant to hurt him. He was already back with his old friends, the ones that sneered at me in the hallways. They thought I wasn’t good enough for him and, eventually, Severus began to agree. 

1976.

My sixteenth birthday was with Mum and Dad. Petunia was out with her boyfriend and couldn’t be bothered to watch me blow out my candles. It was fine, though, because I wasn’t in much of a mood to celebrate anyway. 

I hadn’t realized until then that Severus really was the only friend I was still close to. When he decided to leave me, I was alone again. Summer couldn’t have come any sooner. 

When I came to the summer and heard the news about Sirius leaving home, the first thing I thought about was how lucky he was to have you. I couldn’t think of anyone better than you to take care of Sirius after that. After anything. You two look after each other through everything. 

That summer was the first time that I showed you my scar. I was terrified, but I knew that if anyone was going to look at it and tell me the truth, it was going to be you. I trusted you.

You told me it was badass. I laughed because what kind of answer is that?

It was the perfect answer and it was the moment that I realized how much I actually loved you. I was sixteen and I trusted you completely and I loved you so goddamn much. 

After that I let you see it more often. I find that it’s easier to not care about my scar when I know what you think about it. Which, in hindsight, is entirely un-feminist of me and yet something I cannot control. 

At my family’s last dinner in the lake house, I wore one of my mom’s dresses. It was the first time I ever wore my scar out on purpose. Mum told me I seemed happy. 

When I got home that year, I dug my self-portrait out of the closet and looked at it. It didn’t look right anymore. In fact, it hardly looked like me anymore. I spent the next week painting a new one, a real self-portrait. I was careful to include every freckle, every blemish, every scar I could find. When I looked at it afterward, I didn’t know what to think. It wasn’t beautiful, not by a long shot. It was hard to look at. It left a heavy feeling in my chest. But it also made me feel like I had done something worthwhile. 

I turned both pieces into a scholarship competition. I got a letter a few weeks later asking for more of my work, so I started working on a portfolio.

That Christmas I gave Petunia some art for her new flat in Surrey and helped her pack up the last of her things. As I waved goodbye to her, I couldn’t help feeling like it was the end of a lot of things with my sister. 

1977.

My seventeenth birthday was just Mum, Dad, me and a little cake. 

My portfolio was a project that took up almost all my free time the rest of that school year. I added a lot of pieces that had to do with our summers. I sketched our tree with charcoal and painted your hands using references from my tin of sketches. I even spent days on a portrait of Hannah, my savior, using watercolors. 

One of the themes I include is fate. How one person or place or thing can change your entire destiny.

When summer drew nearer Mum made me drive to Surrey with her and go shopping with Petunia. Tuney was well settled into her independent life at that point and didn’t seem to appreciate being forced to spend her Saturday looking at sundresses with me. 

I picked out a dress like that one I outgrew long ago. Petunia told me it would show my scar. I ignored her. 

You told me that summer about the last time lightning and thunder hit as bad as that summer came, and I blushed remembering where I was when that storm came. I was alone, in pain in a hospital bed, wishing I could have been back at the lake house with him. 

It was a wonderful summer, one that reminded me of the first. 

We went camping and you told us all ghost stories. Sirius rolled his eyes when I hid my face in your sleeve, but you just wrapped an arm around me and pulled me in. I thought my heart was going to explode when you did that. 

I asked you what you thought about ideas like fate or destiny. You and I were settled beside the campfire because the tent was too crowded and you were laying there looking up at me. You told me that you think some things have to happen. Some people just have to meet, are destined to meet. 

I agreed, because I couldn’t not agree when you were looking at me like you were looking at me.

You came to the last dinner and I wore my dress from Surrey. You looked at me in a strange way before throwing back your whiskey taste and I tried not to overthink that look, but then you asked me to go for a walk and I said yes far too quickly. 

That was our first kiss. I thought you were going to make my horrible heart burst. 

It was a moment so perfect it made me want to weep when the summer ended. 

The school year was long and never ending. Petunia called every other week with news of her job and her flat and, eventually, her new boyfriend. At Christmas she decided to stay in Surrey and spend the holiday with his family. Mum promised she wasn’t upset about it, but I could tell that she was imagining my sister disappearing from her life entirely. 

1978.

My eighteenth birthday was a quiet affair. I ate dinner with my parents and had a short phone call with Petunia. I spent the rest of the night finalizing my portfolio. In my mind I was imagining how good it was going to be done with it. I hadn’t really thought through what would happen once I submitted it. 

I got a call from the museum in London offering the scholarship. They wanted me to spend the whole summer at an arts program with the other winners. 

This was the year that I knew I was a coward when it came to you. 

I spent the summer in a short-term flat in London and I made my mum break the news to you. I attended lectures and made art and tried not to think about how disappointed you must have been. It was nice being in London, being an adult and learning all this new information.

I felt it coming. I felt the familiar exhaustion and the struggle to keep my thoughts straight. 

I was rushed to hospital after collapsing during a class. I waited the rest of the summer to call my parents with the news. I told them not to tell any of you, not even your parents. I wanted it to be handled between us. 

Then began what was probably the worst time in my life. My dreams withered before me. University became an impossibility, a future unlikely. My miracles seemed to have run out. Mum and I fought every day because I refused treatments. 

Maybe it was selfish of me to deny my mum a chance to save her daughter. Maybe it was stupid to turn down opportunities to save my own life. The way I saw it, my chances were far lower than other people that could use those opportunities to actually get long-term results. 

Petunia brought her boyfriend Vernon over for Christmas that year. They got engaged and I tried to be happy for them, but the only thing I could think as Tuney embraced me was that I probably wouldn’t even get to see her get married. 

1979.

On my nineteenth birthday I sat in my car with the windows rolled all the way down. It was January, freezing and snow blew into my lap. Still, I left them open. 

My life was a series of doctor’s appointments, new medications, proposals for experimental surgeries and trials and chances at a few extra months. The hardest part was watching all my hard earned weight fly off. 

What I did next was selfish. Possibly the worst thing I could have done to you and my family, but I did it anyway. 

I swore my family to secrecy and came back to the lake house. I came back and I went straight to your house and I kissed you and I pretended that nothing was wrong. 

I shouldn’t have done it. I know that, I do. I know that I gave you no choice. But I’ve always been selfish. 

Any question you had I swallowed with a kiss. 

I even kept it from Remus, my only sick friend. I didn’t want to be sick, so I pretended I wasn’t. I pretended to be fine. I drank, I ate, I swam, I danced and laughed and sang and kissed you.

We went camping that summer. The morning I woke up in your arms is still one of my happiest memories. 

When I left that summer, I gave you my number knowing I wouldn’t answer. I was too much of a coward to burst my own bubble. No, I wouldn’t take the phone. 

In September I had surgery to give me more time, which turned into a surgery to correct a problem found in the first surgery, which turned into observation after I started showing signs of infection, which turned into an endless cycle of problems. I couldn’t have taken the phone if I wanted to. 

The funny thing is that I remember laying in that hospital bed around Christmas thinking that I would have given anything to see you, hear your voice, talk to you about anything. About everything. 

When I got out and Mum told me you wanted to meet up, I told her no. Because I was stronger than my weakest instincts. That’s what I told myself. I was selfish before, but I could be stronger now. I could be braver now. I could distance myself from you and save you from inevitable pain whenever this ended. 

I met a nice guy, someone who hadn’t known me since I was six, someone who just wanted to know me for as long as they could. Amos didn’t assume too much and I liked it that way. He was kind and thoughtful and he never asked too much of me. As time went on, he reminded me of you, which only made things worse. 

I took him to Tuney’s wedding in Surrey. I didn’t have to fake tears when my sister came down the aisle, but my tears were made more from relief than joy. My tears were for myself, relief that I got to see at least one more good thing before I was done. 

1980\. 

On my twentieth birthday I brought Amos to meet my parents. I tried to smile at my Mum that night but her famous pot roast tasted like ash in my mouth and I had this feeling that I was going to vomit as soon as I was out of her sight. 

The problem with Amos was that he was just enough of you to me sicker, but not enough that he actually scratched any itch. It was like having you with me, but only in a certain light. It was a cruel trick, a practical joke that left me more frustrated than ever before. 

Amos was not you. There was no ignoring the fact that even with him by my side I felt completely alone. 

When I introduced him to you, I knew that I was breaking your heart. I could see in your eyes, in the way they darkened, and in your shoulder, in the way they slumped. My heart broke, too. 

I tried, I swear I tried to stay away from you. But on the mornings when I rose to meet you at the lake I found myself wishing I could make Amos disappear, knowing all the while that he wouldn’t be there if I hadn’t brought him into our lives. Knowing that he was there for a reason. 

It didn’t stop me from wanting to hide us away in the woods. It didn’t stop me from wanting you. 

And so I did another horrible thing. I kissed you. I kissed you while my boyfriend was upstairs looking at my baby photos with my mum and after I had spent most of the summer trying to pretend I wasn’t outrageously in love with you. 

Some people are supposed to meet, my love, and I think you and I are destiny incarnate. 

It was like a wave, carrying me away. I could not control it. I stood outside your house in the morning dew for a half hour and tried to talk myself out of what I wanted to do. Tried to come up with a reason to do anything else. I failed. 

And so, the next morning while you were still asleep, I left. Slinked through the shadows and your mum’s front garden and back into bed with Amos. And when the sun rose, I drove away as quickly as I could. 

I broke it off with Amos as soon as we reached the city limits. He didn’t even ask why. He didn’t get angry or suspicious or even sad, which irritated me even more for some reason. 

In the next few weeks I got a job and planned to move out of my parents’ house.

For Christmas I gave my mum my old portfolio. She cried as she looked through it and I knew then that she was well aware of what it meant. What I was saying. But the line had to start somewhere and I was drawing it clearly. 

1981.

On my twenty first birthday, I unpacked my first ever flat alone. 

Life was simple that year. My job was easy, too easy sometimes, and my flat was cheap and hideous. I didn’t mind, though. 

In June, Tuney gave birth to my nephew Dudley. I got to go to the hospital and meet him. He was a chubby, dark-haired little thing with rosy cheeks and he was absolutely perfect. That day, my tears were of joy and they were entirely for my sister, who looked so happy with her new little family. 

In July, my boss didn’t need me because his daughter was in town helping him sort out finances, so I decided to spend the month at the lake house. I was terrified you wouldn’t be there, but of course you were. It’s a summer from my dreams, a summer that I needed. 

I knew what would happen at the end of this summer and I could not go through it without seeing you at least once more. One more summer, I had told myself, that was all I needed. 

When I was growing up, I had always known I would have less time than I was supposed to have. So, when I left the lake house I was surprised to find that I had more time than I was supposed to have. My doctor had told me in August: “Six, maybe eight weeks.”

Imagine my surprise to find myself, October 16th, eight entire weeks and six days later, still alive. 

I don’t know what I was thinking, but before I could stop myself I had dialed the number Mum had written on the receipt from lunch and I was listening to your voice on the other end of the phone. Your voice, your actual voice, in bloody October. And it was the best sound I had ever heard. 

I second guessed myself a million times in those two weeks. It could have been over any of those days. I opened my eyes every day, astonished that I was still alive. The feeling was intoxicating. It felt like I was defying death itself.

And then Halloween came and you were there, in my flat, in some shoddy pirate costume and I remembered the millions of times you’d asked to play pirates instead of fairies. And the boys were there, my boys that I loved so much, and it felt like the best way to end it. 

I guess when the door shut behind the last of my guests and you and I were standing there in the apartment, staring at each other, I knew what was going to happen. I suppose if I had thought about my life in the grand scheme of things right then, I would have realized that the ultimate cosmic joke would be to make this night, this magnificent night, my last night. 

It felt like a dream, the entire night with you, and I felt my heart hammering in my chest the entire time. I felt the pain becoming a dull ache, becoming a sharp pinch, becoming a prickling in my fingers and toes as I lay there beside you. 

And I suppose it’s just destiny that my last words were uttered to you. 

It was always you I was waiting for anyway. My James. My fate.


End file.
